Monday, September 11, 2006

It's surprising how fresh it still is, five years later. Five years is not a long time anymore at this point, but these five years in particular have been, in reality, a lifetime -- adding further to the surprise when I am reminded, again, that the mind covers over things better than the heart does.

I never turn the television on in the morning, but for some reason that morning I did. I was brushing my hair in the bathroom and gradually became aware of a commotion coming from the TV screen in the living room. I heard something about a building being hit. It was a bit surreal; I didn't realize what was happening. I continued getting ready for work, and for reasons that still escape me -- probably a combination of not paying enough attention to what was being said, and the casual, sorely misguided assumption that was my birthright -- get ready to cringe -- that nothing really bad could happen on American soil -- I just kind of thought, "Huh!" It wasn't until I was driving down the 405, from Los Angeles to Manhattan Beach, and the sign on the freeway said LAX CLOSED, that it started to sink in. The announcer's words from the TV echoed in my head over and over and it began making sense, as much sense as was possible.

In my recollections now the office was very dark when I arrived there to find people in a state of shock. I got the full story -- such as it was at that point -- from them, and then I just shut down, leaving the extremities of my body, my soul shivering in the very center. I called my husband, who worked at a news agency near LAX, and begged him to come home. He refused. He said he'd be fine, and that it was his responsibility to disseminate news as it came in. I recall one of the men I worked with, a big, tough man, nearly frantic because he couldn't get hold of a family friend in the city. One of the women I worked with had brought her two kids with her. She had no nearby family and she wasn't going to drop her kids off at school, so they came with her, silent, wide-eyed. Her daughter later asked her if I was alright. "Emma looked so sad," she said. We all exchanged phone numbers, cell numbers, emergency contact numbers. We had no idea what was happening. There was talk of some people going on a long, long camping trip. Anything seemed possible, and I drove home scanning the skies for planes, cringing at every sound, fully expecting to be blown up, waiting for the sky to fall.

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Emma Alvarez Gibson

I write copy that hits just the right nerve--be it as simple as a bio or as intensive as a whole new campaign.

Some other things about me: in my quest to pack several lifetimes into one, I have: produced a zine, which sold at a big-name bookstore in West Hollywood; created an online magazine for teenage girls (Lulu Magazine, now defunct); started a theater company; written, produced and performed original theater; written, sung and recorded music with the band Agent Vertigo; and sold my handmade goods via my Etsy shop. I am married to the best man on the planet, with whom I share a delightful 3-year-old boy; I quite enjoy typography and gin; and harbor a fervent desire to a) speak every language in the world and b) move to New Zealand, despite my intense and disproportionately loyal love for the City of Angels.

In No Particular Order: Things To Do Before Shuffling Off

1. Own and live in a big house by the ocean2. Sing in a band3. Tend a prolific garden of my own4. Live in New Zealand5. Publish a novel or book of short stories6. Sing onstage with Neil Finn (preferably the song Nails In My Feet)7. Become fluent in French8. Learn conversational Japanese9. Make more money freelancing than working for The Man10. Visit Paris11. Own a Labrador (this requires owning a yard as well)12. Record music with a band13. Earn a degree in linguistics14. Send spiritual/emotional support regularly to people who are incarcerated for religious beliefs, as well as financial support to their families15. Get really good at practicing peace16. Learn to look my fear of my own anger in the face, and dismantle its power17. Return to Italy and England18. Visit Antarctica19. Hike regularly20. Meet Clint Eastwood21. Be a buyer for a store that sells amazing, beautiful, strange wonders22. Find the haircut that suits me best23. Find and marry a man who is handsome, clever, strong, sensitive, tough, independent, loving, kind, handy, a good cook and treats me like a queen24. Have the bulk of my diet be whole, healthy, organic foods25. Be free from diabetes26. Be free from headaches27. See some of the equipment from Ernest Shackleton's Antarctic voyages28. See (and touch!!) Frank Worsley's notes from the Endurance voyage29. Visit Ireland and sing a traditional song accompanied by musicians in a pub

The Best Parts.

"Given that we can only live a small part of what there is in us--what happens with the rest?" Night Train to Lisbon, Pascal Mercier

"Those who have an orphan's sense of history love history." Divisadero, Michael Ondaatje

"Was this what came from thoughts of time running out and death: that all of sudden you didn't know anymore what you wanted? That you didn't know your own will anymore? That you lost the obvious familiarity with your own wishes? And in this way became strange and a problem to yourself?" Night Train to Lisbon, Pascal Mercier

"Arriving at each new city, the traveler finds again a past of his that he did not know he had: the foreignness of what you no longer are or no longer possess lies in wait for you in foreign, unpossessed places." Invisible Cities, Italo Calvino

"He was thin, like some lost animal, some idea." Anil's Ghost, Michael Ondaatje

"There remained the big envelope. Katie opened it slowly. Inside was a beautiful pink satin heart with lace edges. She sucked in her breath and turned the card over. No name was signed. Who--? Katie stared around the room. And saw Edwin Jones just looking away, the tips of his ears bright pink, as pink as the satin heart. So! Katie John let out her breath. There was a silly prickling around her eyeballs, and she blinked her eyes quickly. No one gave satin hearts to tomboys." Depend on Katie John, Mary Calhoun

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"This was sunstroke or dengue fever or malaria. When they got back to Colombo she would have tests done. 'It's the sun,' Sarath murmured. 'I'll buy you a bigger hat. I'll buy you a bigger hat. I'll buy you a bigger hat.'" Anil's Ghost, Michael Ondaatje

"To be able to part from something, he thought as the train started moving, you had to confront it in a way that created internal distance. You had to turn the unspoken, diffuse self-understanding it had wrapped around you into a clarity that showed what it meant to you. And that meant it had to congeal into something with distinct contours." Night Train to Lisbon, Pascal Mercier

"There is a great history of people being given the wrong book, at some key moment in their lives." Divisadero, Michael Ondaatje